


The Voice Of Change (Is Often Heard)

by cinematicara



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Smp, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft, Siblings, Techbur /p twins but not really, Twins, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinematicara/pseuds/cinematicara
Summary: It was a frequent thing for Wilbur to reminisce on those cool summer evenings when he and his brother used to play their silly little games together. He missed the days when they seemed to be able to run forever with all his heart, makeshift wooden swords clenched tightly between sticky fingers, each shrieking with laughter as they ran. He was all grown up now and hopelessly lost in a world that seemed so complicated, so painful compared to the ease of youth. But even back then, things hadn’t always been easy...
Relationships: No IRL shipping - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s), Sleepy Bois Inc - Relationship, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 22
Kudos: 140





	1. The Piglin

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this thing for AGES, and I am so excited to finally be able to share it!! I'd been seeing so many hc/aus for how Techno and Wilbur are able to be siblings while one of them is all... pig-y and this idea just came to me one day and hoooo boy it's a fun one. I had a BLAST writing this. There's nice family moments, there's angst, there's comfort, there's Dadza... we've got it all. Buckle up kiddos :)
> 
> I'm aiming to update every two days around 4-6 my time but we'll see how long I can stick to that hahaha.
> 
> Also! HUGE shoutout to anarchygc, especially Neo, Crow, Bree, Crimson, and KB. You guys inspire me so much everyday, thank you all so much for always believing in me :') this one's for you guys more than anyone else.
> 
> _Work title from The Road to Nowhere by Radical Face_
> 
> _tags are subject to change ___

It was a frequent thing for Wilbur to reminisce on those summer evenings when he and his brother used to play their silly little games together. He missed the days when they seemed to be able to run forever with all his heart, makeshift wooden swords clenched tightly between sticky fingers, each shrieking with laughter as they ran. He was all grown up now and hopelessly lost in a world that seemed so complicated, so painful compared to the ease of youth. But even back then, things hadn’t always been easy.

He recalled one particularly foggy dusk near the end of September when the air had been crisp and heavy with the sweet smell of autumn. It was their birthday—his and Techno’s—or rather, it was the day Phil had adopted the pair all those years ago. Frankly, Wilbur was still half-convinced that Techno had at least a couple of months on him, but over the many years they had known each other they had gotten so in the habit of telling everyone who had asked that they were twins that it had just kind of stuck. 

As they would have on any other evening, the pair had spent the day racing back and forth through the fields, wooden swords held at the ready and calling playful taunts over their shoulders as they chased the other down. After several hours that had consisted of more being chased than actual chasing for him, Wilbur finally managed to catch up to Techno, lightly whacking him across the shoulder with the flat side of his sword.

“Gotcha, Techno,” he shouted gleefully, darting out of reach of Techno’s own oak blade. 

The sound of his brother’s familiar goofy laugh as he lunged after him made Wilbur smile. Techno was always so happy when they played together. “You’re getting better at this!”

The twins continued their little game of cat and mouse until the sun kissed the horizon, the fading golden glow of the sky urging them back towards home. The boys knew better than to stay out after dark; they had been warned by their father repeatedly that once the sun went down, the monsters would come out—hordes of the undead, towering voids with glowing purple eyes, and green combusting demons. And although his father’s warning had been intended to ensure that he and Techno would never fail to return home before sundown, the thought of encountering a monster had always quietly thrilled Wilbur.

“C’mon,” Techno said as the final remains of daylight were sucked beyond the horizon. He stuck his sword into his belt and tugged on Wilbur’s sleeve, keeping a cautious eye trained on the darkening field behind them. “We’d better head home. Dad will have dinner ready soon. Birthday dinner!”

“Wait.” Wilbur pulled his arm away from his brother. “Techno, just think. We’re thirteen now and we’ve never once seen a real monster in person.” He paused, turning back to the vast wheat field. “I just want to know what’s out there.”

“Wilbur I don’t think that’s such a good...” The boy’s small voice trailed off, his gaze suddenly transfixed on something in the distance. He looked up at Wilbur and pointed to a clearing about two dozen yards away. “Hey, uh, Wilbur, what is  _ that _ ?”

Wilbur pushed his round wire glasses up on his nose and squinted into the growing darkness towards where his brother had gestured. An unfamiliar creature stood perfectly still in the clearing, obscured up to its chest by wheat and fog. It appeared to be almost humanoid, but something was off about it. In place of where a normal mouth should have been, the creature had two ivory tusks that curved outward from its boarish snout in a ferocious snarl. Where hair should’ve sprouted from the thing’s head instead flopped a pair of large pig’s ears. 

“Wilbur?” Techno whispered, his fingers brushing against his brother’s hand. “We should go home.”

Wilbur did not reply, fascination at the strange creature creeping to overwhelm his common sense. “What do you think it is?” he wondered aloud, brushing off Techno’s concern as the naïve curiosity in his own voice crescendoed, became practically palpable. “It’s definitely not a zombie, definitely not a skeleton… Do you know of any pig monsters, Techno?”

Techno shook his head, backing slowly towards the house. “Dad says we’re not allowed to be out after dark. He’ll be getting worried, Wilbur. We should really go.”

But instead of turning to leave, Wilbur took a cautious step forward.

“ _ Wilbur,”  _ Techno hissed more urgently. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here anymore.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy, I just want to take a closer look.”

Techno pouted at the insult and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re such an idiot, Wilbur. You’re not going anywhere near that thing by yourself.”

“So come with me then.”

Techno hesitated. He considered the suggestion for a moment, then sighed, frustrated but knowing full well that once his brother had made a decision—however stupid it may be—he would not be swayed from it. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll be the babysitter. Just don’t do anything dumb. And we’re just getting a better look, we’re not going anywhere near it.”

“Whatever you say,” Wilbur crowed in delight, grabbing his brother’s hand and yanking him forward despite Techno’s hushed protests. “Come on!”

The duo pressed forward, the wheat and heavy cloak of mist that draped itself over the property keeping them safely obscured from view. Even still, Techno continued to glance around uncomfortably until they stopped about 20 feet from the creature. “This is close enough.” He shot a nervous glance at Wilbur. “Take your look and let’s go.”

Wilbur cocked his head in fascination and pushed his glasses up again. The creature was truly unlike any other monster he had ever heard or read about before. It stood about six and a half feet tall, with waxy dirt-streaked brown skin that reminded Wilbur of the tanned pigskins that occasionally hung to dry outside the town butcher’s. Its leather tunic and leggings were ragged and filthy as if they had never once been removed, let alone washed. The stubby pig snout that took up much of its face twitched occasionally, wide-set nostrils flared, releasing a small puff of fog into the air with every breath. Most unsettling of all were its eyes. The entirety of the eye—iris, pupil, and all—was an unsettling milky white that glittered dangerously in the moonlight as it stared straight ahead into the darkness.

Ever curious, Wilbur leaned forward to take another tentative step but flinched and stumbled backward as a dry stalk of wheat cracked noisily beneath his boot. The creature’s ears shot up. Techno gave a frightened squeak and his grip on Wilbur’s hand became unbearably tight as the creature’s head suddenly whipped towards the boys and its lips pulled back into a menacing snarl, revealing a formidable set of two-inch fangs alongside the tusks. 

“ _ Wilbur _ !” 

“You’re right,” Wilbur said, fear finally beginning to settle into his voice. “Time to go.”

The boys turned in unison and sprinted back towards home, no longer worried about staying quiet, but the monster seemed to have the same idea. It dropped onto all fours and began to gallop after them, huffing and snorting furiously. Techno was yelling at Wilbur as he ran, his small toy sword still clutched dutifully in his hand. Wilbur’s own sword banged uncomfortably against his hip as he tore through the field, hardly daring to look behind him. When he finally did glance back, the monster had easily closed the gap between them, going from a solid 25 feet away to two in a matter of seconds. As he watched, it kicked off the ground with its back legs, springing forward and tackling Techno to the ground before sinking its fangs into his shoulder. Techno’s scream ripped through Wilbur, filling him with pure unbridled horror.

“ _ No!”  _ Wilbur cried, skidding to a stop and pulling his sword from his belt as he rushed to his brother’s aid. “Leave him alone!”

He swung the pitiful wooden sword with all his might, connecting it with the beast’s skull with a fierce  _ crack  _ that snapped the sword in two. The blow barely seemed to have any effect on the monster, but what it did manage to do was turn its attention from Techno to Wilbur, and while that had ultimately been his goal, he hadn’t gotten any farther along in his plan. He backed up quickly as terror crept over him with its ice-cold grip, tunneling his vision and tightening his throat. The pig-like creature snorted, its frightening white eyes locking onto its new target.

“ _ Dad!”  _ Wilbur screamed into the night, brandishing the splintered remains of his already useless sword as the boarish creature stalked towards him. All he could do was hope his father was near enough to hear his cries. He had never felt more helpless than he did at that moment with the mysterious bloodthirsty creature eyeing him like he was a meal and his brother lying still in the crushed wheat a few yards away, a worrying crimson stain beginning to spread from his shoulder. “ _ Dad, help!  _ **_Phil_ ** _!” _

Right on cue, a single black arrow thudded into the center of the monster’s chest, quickly followed by another, and another. Wilbur spun to see his father standing behind him in the field, gray robe fluttering in the breeze, his brow creased with rage, and a fourth netherite-tipped arrow already nocked in place. 

“Get away from my sons,” Phil bellowed furiously and let the final arrow fly. The monster squealed in pain as the arrow found its mark beside its sisters with a sickening  _ thwack _ . It tore desperately at its chest for a moment before letting out a hoarse shriek and collapsing facefirst, sending the sharpened points of the arrows piercing through flesh and leather alike and emerging blood-stained on the other side of its thick torso. Wilbur stared at the monster’s pin-cushion corpse for a brief moment before turning and hurtling like a stray comet into his father’s open arms. 

“I’m s- so sorry, Dad,” he sobbed, gathering fistfuls of Phil’s robe in his hands as he buried his face in his father’s shoulder. “I just wanted to see… I just wanted to be brave like you!”

“Let’s go home, Wil,” Phil coaxed with a gentleness that only a concerned father could as he ran a hand through Wilbur’s curls.

“I can’t go home!” Wilbur wailed remorsefully, burrowing deeper into Phil’s robe. “I killed Techno!” 

“You didn’t kill Techno.” Phil crouched in front of Wilbur, taking his son’s face in his rough calloused hands, a troubled, yet somehow still reassuring look on his face. “Hey. You didn’t kill Techno. He’s going to be fine. Let’s bring him inside, I can heal him.”

Wilbur trailed along behind Phil as he crossed to where Techno lay motionless on the ground—his once crisp white button-down shirt now torn, filthy, and wet with blood—and checked his pulse.

Wilbur cast his gaze downwards as Phil nodded to himself in grim approval before gingerly scooping his injured son into his arms. At least he was alive.

This was all Wilbur’s fault. Techno had warned him, he had tried to tell him to go back home, but Wil had been too stubborn, too caught up in his brave little fantasy, and now Techno was paying the price. Phil had only ever given the boys one rule: always be home before dark. Wilbur had broken the one rule, and now… The thought trailed off, leaving Wilbur feeling sick to his stomach.  _ It should’ve been me. _

As they approached the house, Wilbur couldn’t help but quietly ask, “What was that thing? I’ve never heard of anything like it before.”

“A Piglin,” his father responded gravely. “But Piglins are Netherfolk, they aren’t even supposed to be able to exist in the Overworld. Whatever it was doing down here in our neck of the woods…” he shook his head. “I don’t like it, Wil.”

They reached the house, and before Wilbur could so much as wipe his shoes on the welcome mat, Phil began to rattle off a list of hurried instructions.

“Get me a healing potion, my sewing supplies from the office, bandages, a towel, and some warm water. And definitely a regen potion while you’re at it, if I have any left. Fast!” 

Wilbur did as he was told, dashing off to gather the supplies. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he dug through cabinets to collect the requested materials. Some birthday this was turning out to be. 

When he returned, arms piled high with gear, their humble birthday feast had been moved from where it had waited steaming on the table to the kitchen counter, turning the table into a sort of makeshift operating table. 

“Ah, good, there’s still some regen left. Give him the full dose. Now,” Phil ordered, accepting the bag of sewing supplies from his son’s hands. “I don’t know much about Piglins, we’ll just have to hope their bites aren’t venomous. Otherwise, we—” He gave Wilbur a strained look. “We may have already lost him.”

Wilbur’s throat tightened.  _ No.  _ Techno couldn’t be gone. He simply wouldn’t allow it. 

He obediently unstoppered the vial of regeneration potion with trembling hands and upended it into his unconscious brother’s mouth. 

“Now healing, half a dose,” his father instructed as he expertly threaded a thin line of black string through the eye of a needle. “Should help with any pain if he wakes up.”

Wilbur nodded and poured half the second vial down Techno’s throat as Phil began to painstakingly clean and stitch up the gaping wound in the small boy’s shoulder. Then, all Wilbur could do was step back and watch as his father worked, eyes wide with anticipation. 

He couldn’t lose Techno. Not like this, not after all they had been through together. 

***

_ Even though they weren’t actually twins, the two boys might as well have been. The pair had grown unshakably close from a young age, and soon, even the staff at the boys’ home where they had grown up together had begun to refer to them as ‘the twins.’ When it came to looks, they could’ve passed as nearly identical despite having no biological relation. They had the same gentle eyes the color of maple syrup, thick brown curls, and goofy half-smiles. They were slight for their age, and optically impaired, meaning glasses for the both of them: round wire frames for Wilbur, thin rectangular ones for Techno.  _

_ From the moment each boy had chosen to accept the other’s proximity to them in the orphanage, they had become inseparable. They ate together, they played together, they even slept side-by-side on the colder nights when the orphanage's age-worn heater did little against the brutal cold. Their friendship had fueled them both through even the worst days at the orphanage—the days where tempers would run high amongst children and staff alike, and anger would be taken out on the weaker ones. Wilbur had spent many a bitter night icing the ugly bruises that marked Techno’s arms and back, the result of his naturally reserved, yet fiercely stubborn personality in a group of trauma-hardened boys. Through everything—the good times and the bad—Wilbur and Techno knew that no matter what happened to them, they would always have each other.  _

_ All they had needed was a home.  _

_ And then one miraculous day, Phil had found them. He had taken them in and the pair had quickly patched up the hole in his heart left by his deceased wife, and he, in turn, gave them the one thing they had been missing: a real home. A happy family. Three half lives complete at last. _

_ *** _

Wilbur was shaken from the past by the sound of Techno groaning faintly from the table. At that moment, Wilbur felt as if he could sprout wings and leap into flight. Techno was alive! He hadn’t killed his brother after all.

“Shhh…” Phil coaxed, his brow creasing in concentration as he hurried to finish the last of the neat row of stitches. “You’re alright, son, just a bit chewed up.”

Techno’s eyelids fluttered weakly as he slowly regained consciousness. When at last he spoke, his voice was as weak and as faint as the beating of dragonfly wings against a windstorm. “Dad?”

“Hey, Techno,” Phil smiled, snipping the thread with a delicate pair of sewing scissors. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel… weird,” Techno croaked pitifully. “Dad, something’s not right.”

Wilbur and Phil exchanged a look. “What do you mean?” An edge of concern was creeping into his tone. “We’re talking besides the obvious, right?”

“Yeah…” Techno trailed off, “Everything hurts.” 

“I’m sure you’ll feel better tomorrow once you’ve had a bit of rest,” the boys’ father reassured him, gently brushing the damp curls from his forehead and offering the rest of the healing potion which Techno gratefully drank. “I promise.”

“Promise…” Techno echoed sluggishly as he slipped back into oblivion. 


	2. The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio makes a journey to find out what's happening to Techno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! tw / cw at the very end for brief (and vague) mentions of sensory overload / panic attacks !!
> 
> enjoy! sorry this is so late :)

Needless to say, Techno did not feel better after a bit of rest. 

Wilbur was awoken in the early dawn by the sound of his brother howling in pain, a bone-chilling cry that immediately sent Wilbur bolting upright and swinging his legs out of bed despite the lingering stiffness in his muscles from sleep.

“Techno, hold still!” Phil’s commanding voice floated from down the hallway between agonized shrieks. “I can’t even get a look at you!”

A combination of morbid curiosity and alarm overtook Wilbur as he stumbled out of his bed and down the hall to his brother’s room. He reached the doorway and called out to his father, his voice shaking. “What’s wrong with him? Is it the bite?”

“I don’t know! He isn’t talking to me! I’ve already given him two doses of healing, nothing is helping!”

Wilbur’s eyebrows creased in distress as he approached the bed. Techno truly did look awful. His skin had taken on a sickly grayish hue, his eyes were wild with pain and fear, and his pajama shirt was completely soaked with sweat. His chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. 

There was a sickening sound like splintering wood and Techno shrieked once more, his hands clutching desperately at the bedcovers as he curled into a ball on his side, turning away from the eyes of his worried family. 

“What the hell is happening to him?” Wilbur begged as he grabbed hold of his father’s arm, panic seeping into his voice. “We have to do something! We have to take him to a healer!”

“What healer, Wil?” his father snapped back. “The nearest village with a healer is hours away. We can’t risk it.”

“We have to!” Tears had begun to pool in Wilbur’s eyes as his brother continued to howl. “You can’t fix this alone! We don’t know what’s wrong with him. What if we do nothing and he dies, what then, Dad? _What then_?”

Phil sat quietly for a moment, his brow furrowed in anxious indecision, one hand resting on Techno’s shoulder as it shook with silent agonized sobs. “Techno, please talk to me. What do we do?”

At the sound of his name, Techno shuddered, and in a voice so soft and strained Wilbur and Phil each had to lean in to hear it, he managed to choke out: “Wilbur…is right. I need a… a healer.”

Phil turned to look Wilbur in the face and gave a grim nod. That settled it. If it was what Techno wanted—what Techno _needed_ —they would have to risk the journey.

***

Despite not taking more than roughly three hours, the trip seemed to Wil to drag on for days. 

They had given Techno a dose of sleeping potion before loading him into the back of their cramped wooden cart, and although he still twitched and whimpered occasionally in his sleep, his face had very slowly—to Wilbur’s relief—begun to lose the unhealthy gray tint. 

The clatter of Phil’s horse’s hooves on the cobblestone road echoed rhythmically in Wilbur’s head, matching the frantic racing of his heart. He sat quietly in the back of the cart with Techno’s head resting in his lap. His brother burned with fever, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. 

Wilbur smoothed a hand over Techno’s tangled curls and paused as his finger brushed against his ear. Was he losing it or had his brother’s ear gotten longer? He pushed the wave of matted hair back in confusion. “Hey, Dad,” Wilbur called hesitantly, not quite sure how to explain what he was seeing. “Um… I think Techno’s ears are getting… bigger.”

“What are you talking about?” Phil frowned, turning to face the boys from his seat behind the horse. “Bigger how?”

Wilbur stared down at Techno. Without a doubt, the tips of his ears had elongated, coming to a delicate point instead of their usual rounded lobe. “I can’t explain it, they’re just getting longer. Pointier.”

“Is that all?” Phil asked, a note of worry edging into his voice. “Nothing else has changed?”

“Yeah…” Wilbur began to reply but trailed off as something else caught his eye. Something small—almost imperceptible—poking out from his bottom lip. “Wait, no. Dad, his teeth…”

Phil flicked the reins urgently, pressuring the horse onwards. “What about his teeth?”

Wilbur gently thumbed the corner of Techno’s mouth down to reveal the spot where a petite tusk had begun to form from his bottom canine, barely poking out over his lip. “They’re growing too. They’re turning into… I dunno, like tusks or something.” His breathing began to quicken. “How much farther, Dad?”

“Not long now. Maybe another half hour.” Phil’s voice was strained. “The sleeping potion will be wearing off. He’ll be waking up soon enough.”

To Wilbur’s dismay, it turned out nothing could make a journey feel slower than having to watch whatever was happening to his brother. The final stretch of the journey seemed to last a decade, so when they were finally able to catch a glimpse at the distant rooftops of their destination, Wilbur almost felt like crying with joy. 

Techno began to stir as they approached the village, but did not fully regain consciousness as Phil had predicted. He looked like hell, his face now completely drained of any color at all and his tunic damp with sweat. Despite the perspiration, he trembled in the cold autumn air as if the heavy wool blankets that Wilbur and Phil had taken care to lay over him weren’t even there. 

Dozens of curious eyes followed the travel-weary trio’s path as they entered the town, the staccato clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone road cutting through the fascinated silence as a knife would through butter. Clearly, these folks weren’t used to travelers passing through their town. A heavyset man sporting a thick curled mustache approached the cart, waving a hand at Phil. “Greetings, travelers!” he called warmly. “To what does Brightwyn owe the pleasure? We do not see many strangers in these parts nowadays.”

Phil gestured to the cart. “We need to see a healer. Immediately. My son is very sick.”

The man peered into the back of the wagon at Wilbur and Techno. “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Our resident healer, Phineas, works miracles. Come, come.” 

He whistled cheerfully as he led them a ways into town before stopping and indicating a small oak home on the edge of the community marked with a small wooden sign that simply read: “Phineas’s.”

Phil thanked the man as he turned to head back towards the town square. He dismounted, landing heavily in the dry grass, approached the door, and knocked tentatively.

“Go away!” a rough voice immediately hollered from inside the home. “I’ve had enough of you children and your _idiotic_ tricks!”

“I’m sorry?” Phil called back, confused.

Silence followed, and then the sound of shuffling feet and the click of a latch as a small port window opened on the door revealing a pair of scowling eyes and two massive bushy eyebrows. 

“Eh?” the old man grunted. “Who are you, what do you want?”

“Please, Mr. Phineas, sir,” Wilbur stepped forward before his father could so much as take a breath to answer. “We’ve come a long way. My brother is sick; we’d hoped you would be able to help.”

“Depends. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s…” Wilbur found himself at a loss for words. What _was_ wrong with Techno? “I don’t know how to explain it. He’s changing, I guess. He was bitten by a Piglin, but we aren’t entirely sure that’s what’s causing this.”

The eyebrows shot up. “A Piglin, you say? In that case, I may well be the only person who actually _can_ help you. Do come in.”

The latch clicked the rest of the way and the heavy oak door swung open, revealing a short white-haired man in an oversized smock. He was surprisingly tan for an elderly stay-home medic, and his scowl was accentuated by the deep frown lines etched across his brow. His eyebrows truly did seem to take up most of his face, with the bushy white hairs sticking out haphazardly over his eyes from their low perch on his forehead. 

“I apologize for my greeting. My only visitors of late have been village children who insist on endlessly tormenting me with practical jokes. Bring him here,” the man urged as Phil collected Techno from the cart. He looked so small cradled in his father’s arms, his head lolling against his bicep. Techno had not stirred again since they had first reached the town limits which worried Wilbur. 

“Give him this,” the old man said as Phil laid his son on the healer’s worktable. He passed him a small vial filled with a dark purple liquid. “It’ll wake him up.”

Phil obediently administered the potion, and he and Wilbur each heaved a relieved sigh as Techno cracked his eyes for the first time since that morning. 

“Now… The Piglin bite. Show me,” the healer said, snapping his fingers almost impatiently. Techno glanced at his family and weakly nodded. They painstakingly helped sit him up and remove his shirt, revealing the ugly wound to the healer. Wilbur himself almost gasped at the sight of it. His brother’s entire shoulder had turned hideous shades of green and brown as if the skin itself had begun to rot. Veins stood out against his pale skin like the dark tendrils of a vine, and a sickly greenish fluid leaked lazily from beneath Phil’s stitches. 

“Is it bad?” Techno asked, clearly disoriented as he tried to get a look at himself. No one dared answer.

At last, the healer began to speak in a low voice as he tottered around the room, pulling small boxes, herbs, and clinking potion bottles from his shelves as he went.

“Well, you’re lucky you came when you did. I’ve seen a wound like this before, just once, nearly two decades ago now. Allow me to tell you the tale of a young adventurer and old apprentice of mine named Fynn Neo. Fynn lived in this sleepy old town all his life. Unlike most who live here, he was brave, headstrong, and adored by all, and frankly, he was quite the daredevil.” He squinted at the label of a small box, scoffed to himself, and hastily tossed it over his shoulder with a mutter before continuing. “Now you see, there is a portal in the middle of town; it’s what I use to collect much of the material I use here—or in any case, what my more daring apprentices, like Fynn, use to fetch it for me. One day, Fynn decided to venture through the portal for a different reason. As I said, he was always looking for a new adventure, and he believed that travelling through the Nether, finding one of the fabled dark fortresses, slaying a Wither skeleton, and bringing home the spoils would bring him great honor and fame for miles around. In truth, he was correct in his assumption. No one around here had ever encountered a Wither and lived to tell of it. Unfortunately, he was ill-prepared for the journey. Before the first night fell, he stumbled upon a Piglin encampment, and without any gold on his person, he was brutally attacked. He fled with his life, but not before the Piglins had done their damage.”

“What happened to him?” Techno asked in a small voice. 

The healer turned to look into the small boy’s eyes, his gaze as cold as the autumn air outside. “He died,” was his flat reply. “He—like you have begun to be, I’m sure—was heavily affected by the altering properties of the bite. First came the exterior changes: the tusks, the ears, the eyes, and the hooves, next came the bloodlust and an infatuation with gold, and lastly and most painful of all, his organ systems mutated. He transformed completely into a Piglin. But Netherfolk aren’t meant to survive in the Overworld, regardless of where they originally hail from. Our atmosphere is far too rich with nutrients. He choked to death within the week.”

Wilbur’s mouth felt dry. “Techno’s going to die?”

“No,” the healer answered shortly, collecting the last few selected items from his shelves and dropping his load into a pile on the table. “Lucky for you, I gained a lot from that experience with Fynn, and now I know how to stop the process. I cannot reverse what has already been done, but I can slow it down to the point where soon it will cease from progressing any further.” He glanced at Techno. “I must warn you, you will never be the same as before. You will be forever changed, both physically and mentally.”

Techno acknowledged him miserably with a nod but did not speak. 

After haggling over payment with Phil for a brief moment, Phineas got to work. He moved like a whirlwind, combining potions and herbs and murmuring to himself as he went. Occasionally, he would pause to tell Phil and Wilbur what he was doing, which was appreciated, but in truth did not help them to be any less confused. Nevertheless, they trusted the man’s work. He offered a handful of steaming concoctions to Techno and Phil as he worked, some for Techno to drink and some for Phil to apply to the exterior of the wound. After a while, the greenish tint of Techno’s skin began to noticeably fade, much to Wilbur and Phil’s relief.

“Now, tell me, Techno.” the healer said when it seemed he was satisfied with the treatment of the wound itself. “Your brother said you were changing. Exactly what has changed thus far?”

Techno’s voice had gained some strength from the potions, but he was still incredibly weak, only managing a hoarse whisper. “It’s like you said. Tusks. Ears. And hooves too, I think.” He dissolved into a fit of raspy coughs. “That’s all so far.”

Phineas nodded. “I see. Let me take a look.”

He poked and prodded at Techno for a while, brushing his hazelnut curls aside to survey his ears, clicking his tongue at the sight of the pointed and still elongating lobes. “Your ears and teeth will likely continue growing as you get older,” he explained as he lifted Techno’s chin and gently pulled his lower lip down to see his teeth. “They’ll stop around the same time the rest of you stops growing. Although the shape of your ears will be entirely different within a week I’d say.” He gestured to Techno’s heavy leather boots. “May I?” Techno consented with a weak “mhm” and the healer began to unlace the shoes. “I assume this was the least pleasant part of what you’d been through thus far?” He tugged off the first boot to reveal the misshapen mess of Techno’s foot. Wilbur couldn't help but stare in shocked horror and think of how unbearably cramped the boots must have been. The full length of his brother's foot had been extended and his toes appeared to have grown together and hardened into a cleft solid keratin hoof. The angle of his ankle was all wrong, shaped in such a way that would require him to stand on his toes rather than the flat of his foot. Techno squeezed his eyes shut at the memory and nodded again, whispering, “It felt like someone was breaking and mending my legs over and over...”

The healer frowned. “I can only imagine. Piglin legs are structured very differently from ours. Your bones likely didn’t know how to react.”

Wilbur remembered the splintering sound from that morning and how Techno had screamed. _“It felt like someone was breaking and mending my legs over and over.”_ Wilbur could not even fathom the agony his brother must’ve been in. Wilbur had broken his wrist once after falling out of a tree when he was young, and it had hurt like hell, but the initial pain and shock of it had only lasted a few moments after just a quarter dose of healing potion. For Techno, the pain hadn’t stopped until his entire lower leg had been forcibly reshaped. Wilbur bit his lip hard enough for the metallic taste of blood to fill his mouth.

Suddenly he didn’t want to be there anymore. The weight and reality of what he had inadvertently caused to happen to his brother came crashing down on him all at once in an avalanche of horrified guilt. He wasn’t going to cry, not here, not in front of everybody, but he desperately needed to get out of the cramped workroom. The smell of herbs and potions and the faint ticking of a clock were brought to the forefront of his attention, overwhelming his senses as his heart rate began to quicken. He needed to get out.

He quickly turned and made to leave, catching Phil’s eye as he did. His father raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but after seeing the look on Wil’s face, he gave a sympathetic smile. “Go on,” he whispered, tilting his head towards the door. “We won’t be much longer. Stay right by the house, and come inside right away if you see anything.”

Gratefully, Wilbur nodded his agreement and excused himself back out into the open autumn night air. He plopped down on the threshold of the building and sat in silence for a while, using his finger to draw shapes in the crumbly dirt to distract himself as his breathing steadily slowed back to a normal pace. But the distraction wasn’t enough to tear his mind away from his damaged brother. 

_What had he done?_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per the usual, kudos and comments are super appreciated!!! DO NOT HOLD BACK, I LOVE READING EVERY SINGLE COMMENT I GET SO MUCH PLEASE—
> 
> hope you enjoyed! sorry for the wait, it's been a hell of a week. the next chapter will hopefully be up by Sunday but i make no promises


	3. Our New Wilderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil comforts Wilbur back at home.
> 
> _Often there's a voice in my sleeping mind  
>  The words inside my skull at night  
> But once I wake, I cannot read them  
> My bloody hands remain a question mark ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the short comfort chapter fo' today :')

In the end, Phineas had sent them on their way with a small package of delicate vials filled with his own special combinations of potions. Some were meant to numb pain, others to attempt to dampen the effect altering effects of the bite, notably the “personality shift” he claimed Techno would begin to experience within the next week or two. “Piglins are often driven by a lust for blood and their own self interest,” he had explained. “Think of this as being akin to a second puberty: your emotions and hormones will be affected in a similar way. Don’t beat yourself up over it; none of it is your fault.” Wilbur had hated the sound of that, but he still gratefully accepted the concoctions to load into their cart. 

They rode in silence for an hour before Wilbur had finally found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry, Techno. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on getting a closer look at the—”

“It’s fine, Wil. Honestly.” his brother interrupted with a tired smile. “I’ll be alright. Thanks for—you know… bringing me there. I’d have died if you hadn’t.”

If the statement had been meant to offer consolation, it failed miserably. Wilbur felt a hollow pit open in his heart, the words of the healer echoing endlessly in his mind.  _ “You will never be the same as before. You will still be forever changed, both physically and mentally.”  _ If he lost his brother—his quiet and endlessly kind brother who had always relied on him to look out for him since the very beginning—he would never forgive himself. 

“Right,” he managed to mumble in reply, just managing to turn away before tears began to pool in his eyes.

***

By the time they arrived home, the sun had already begun to brush the horizon with its weary fingers that seemed to be made of liquid gold. Liquid gold fingers. Gold. Piglin gold.  _ Piglin curse.  _ Throughout the journey back, Wilbur’s mind had insisted on tormenting him with thoughts such as this. Thoughts of boarlike monsters and the possibility of what could have been had he and his father not gone to the healer. If Phineas’s tale was true, Techno would’ve died a slow and painful death, his body mutating into that of an otherworldly beast before he eventually choked to death on the pure Overworld air. Wilbur would have rather died himself than have to watch that.

Techno was exhausted from the journey and his legs were still far too weak to support his weight, leaving Phil to carry him off to bed the moment they stepped through the front door of their home. When he returned, he dropped heavily into one of the kitchen chairs and covered his face with his hands. 

“Dad?” Wilbur’s quiet voice broke the silence. 

When Phil removed his hands from his face his eyes were red and misty. “Yes, son?”

“Did I ruin Techno? Did I ruin our family?”

Phil smiled sadly, patting his lap and opening his arms. He knew as well as Wilbur did that Wilbur was far too old to be sitting in his father’s lap, but that did nothing to deter him. Wilbur flung himself into his father’s arms and sobbed. Once they began the tears never seemed to stop, soaking his cheeks and Phil’s robe as Phil caressed his son's shaking shoulders. “Shhhh,” he consoled his son. “You didn’t ruin anything. Sometimes, mistakes are necessary to help us grow. Even mistakes as big as this one. And no matter what, you will both always be my sons.”

Wilbur hiccupped, the kind words feeling empty to him. How could they be true after what he had inadvertently caused to happen?

“Will you sing to me, Dad?” His voice was little more than a whisper and the request sounded silly even to his own ears, but it was what he needed. His father’s low tenor and lyrical ability had always had the ability to comfort him no matter the circumstances. Phil had written many a somber lullaby for the boys, but Wilbur had always had a favorite. “Please? The one about the war and your wife?”

Phil smiled at Wil’s predictability; even from a young age he had chosen the same song every time he had asked to be sung to. As he began to hum the slow melancholy tune Phil pulled Wilbur close and combed a hand gently through his curls. Before he had even finished the song, Wilbur had fallen fast asleep in his arms.

_ This night will yield no lone survivor, _

_ As we cry out ‘no man surrender!’ _

_ Yet I am on my way again, a-wandering,  _

_ wandering home. _

_ I left my home to claim this land, _

_ I fought with creature, beast, and man, _

_ But now I’m on my way again, a-wandering, _

_ wandering home. _

_ Your voice is all I know, and still, _

_ I miss you more and more, my dear, _

_ While I am on my way again, a-wandering, _

_ wandering home. _

_ Your hair as blue as the night sky, _

_ Could always turn a fairer eye, _

_ And yet it’s me you’re waiting for to come _

_ a-wandering home. _

_ I thought of nothing else but you, _

_ And now my journey is all through, _

_ You see me in the distance as _

_ I come a-wandering home. _

_ And when at last I finally greet her, _

_ The end could come—it wouldn’t matter, _

_ For I have waited long for this,  _

_ I’ve come a-wandering home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> also the song is just my way of giving voc!phil a vague backstory, it doesn't really tie into the rest of the story. just wanted to write some simple poetry :^)


	4. Forever Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Techno have a much needed conversation after a tense Christmas dinner!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, sorry it's been a minute! I've been super busy with work and then I unexpectedly got some extra time off school and instead of writing I decided to use the break to just sort of deflate for a bit. Anyways, Christmas chapter! This one is a bit shorter again, but that's alrighty, right?
> 
> edit: just realized how close this is to 1k hits WOOHOO!

The autumn months seemed to soar by and before Wilbur could so much as blink, the Christmas season was upon them. He had eagerly helped his father decorate the cottage with boughs of holly and strands of twinkling lights, draping them from every shelf and ledge he could possibly find. The fullest evergreen tree Phil had ever managed to drag home stood tall in the corner of the main room, its branches adorned with lights and glass ornaments in hues of red and gold. 

Wilbur loved everything about Christmas. He loved the cozy atmosphere that came with the decor upgrade, he loved the food, and most of all, he loved the extra time he got to spend with his family. 

He practically skipped to the table when Phil called the boys to dinner. Phil had caught and killed a reasonably sized wild boar during an outing in the forest earlier that week, a delicacy that had always been reserved for only the most special occasions. But today was Christmas, and that was occasion enough. 

Phil carved up a hearty slice of the animal for each of the boys, and then for himself. “Well, dig in!” he exclaimed brightly, clapping his hands together. “Merry Christmas, boys!”

Wilbur happily got to work on the meal. The swine was cooked to perfection: not too tough, but not overly moist either, and the flavor… the flavor was exquisite. His father truly did have a way with food that no one in his life ever had. Then again, he’d spent much of his childhood eating day-old porridge, so he didn’t have much to compare it to.

“Techno? You alright?” Phil asked around a mouthful of meat after a few minutes had gone by. “You haven’t touched your food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Techno muttered and pushed his plate away. 

Wilbur's gaze flicked to their father, whose expression quickly faded from jovial to concerned. 

“Techno? What’s wrong? You love wild boar!”

“Maybe I don’t anymore, Dad. Maybe I’d rather not eat animals at all.”

Wilbur’s mouth dropped open. Techno had always  _ loved  _ meat! Phil had taken Wil and Techno out hunting for dinner with him once a week since practically the day he had taken them in. It was part of their lifestyle, and Techno had never seemed to have any issue with it before, in fact, he had looked forward to those outings as much as Wilbur had, if not even more.

“What are you talking about?” Phil asked, sounding equally confused. 

“You really don’t see an issue here?” Techno snapped. “Think  _ really _ hard, Dad. You’ll get there.” 

Horrified realization seemed to dawn on Wilbur and Phil at the same moment as they stared at their plates.

“Oh, God’s almighty,” Phil said, the coloring draining from his face. “Techno, I-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Techno sneered. “Enjoy your pig.” With that, he stood, grabbed his coat from its hook, and stormed out the front door, letting it slam behind him. 

“Technoblade!” his father cried after him, but to no avail. 

Wilbur’s eyes were wide. How could they have been so insensitive? It had been months since the incident, and still, despite the few obvious changes, he didn’t really think of Techno as being any different. To Wilbur, he was still just his twin brother, just with some slight… variations. But the wild boar. Of all the animals Phil had to catch for Christmas dinner, it had to have been a damn  _ boar _ . 

“I’ll go after him,” Wilbur suggested, pushing away from the table.

“No. It’s probably best to leave him alone.”

Wilbur frowned. If there was anything he knew about his brother, it was that he didn’t like to be alone when he was hurting. But then again, maybe that was just another one of the “changes” his brother was going through. As the healer had predicted, Techno’s personality had gone through quite the metamorphosis in the weeks following their visit. He had gone from being the shy but sweet boy that Wilbur had always known to being moodier, more tired, more rebellious. And so much angrier. 

“I just want to make sure he’s alright. It’s freezing out there.”

Phil sighed in defeat, looking across the meal he had prepared. “Alright, alright,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Go.”

It didn’t take Wilbur long to find his brother. He was laying on his back in the snow in a distant clearing at the edge of the property, his eyes closed. In the very clearing, Wilbur realized with a sinking heart, where he had first spotted the Piglin all those months ago. He approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, and cleared his throat.

“Techno? You okay?” No answer. “Listen, about dinner… Dad and I weren’t thinking. You know we never would’ve done that to purposefully hurt you, right? Dad is just really stressed right now, and  _ I’m  _ stressed right now, and everything is just so weird, and you’ve changed so much. Dad and I, we’re just trying to act like things are still normal. All I want is for things to go back to how they were.” He paused to catch his breath as he realized he’d started to ramble. “And I just... I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Techno opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. “Yeah,” he answered softly. “I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose.” He tucked his hands behind his head and let his eyes drift shut again as he continued. “But things will never go back to how they were, Wil. I know it. And I think you know it too.”

Wilbur swallowed the lump in his throat. Techno was right, of course. His brother continued.

“And you’re right. I have changed. You think I like this anymore than you do?” He sat up suddenly and folded his arms across his chest, chunks of fluffy snow sticking to his clothes and hair. “I haven’t felt like myself in months, Wilbur. Do you honestly think a day goes by where I don’t have to remind myself not to hate you for all this?” He gestured angrily at his face.

Wilbur felt his heart plummet down to the soles of his worn leather boots. Techno had always been open about how he didn’t blame Wilbur for his changed circumstances, but clearly, that had been a lie. Not only did he blame Wilbur… he  _ hated  _ him. 

“Techno, I-”

Techno stopped him with a raised hand. “I’ll get over it, Wilbur. I’m sure I’ll forgive you eventually. But we aren’t there yet. You understand?”

All Wilbur could do was nod numbly.

“Alright,” Techno said, collapsing back into the snow. “Now please, just leave me alone.”

***

Wilbur reentered the house sullenly to find Phil still making good work of his dinner, a guilty look crossing his face as he made eye contact with Wilbur. “Don’t tell Techno, I can’t let a meal like this go to waste. How did it go?”

Wilbur sighed and slumped into his seat at the table. “He blames me, Dad.”

Phil set down his fork and placed a reassuring hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “He’ll get over himself, Wil. I promise. Techno’s never been one for holding a grudge.”

“But what if that’s changed? I mean, who really even knows who he is anymore? He’s a totally different person, Dad, and I know you see it too.”

Phil agreed reluctantly. “I do know what you mean. Just give him time. Maybe this is just him being a teenager.”

Wilbur was afraid to let himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew updating chaptered fics is so hard bc it honestly starts to feel like homework at a certain point. I'm doing my best though smile.  
> Hope you all enjoyed :)
> 
> As always, i like-a da comments and kudos, they keep me motivated to update so don't be shy lmao

**Author's Note:**

> WOO HOPE YOU ENJOYED! There's a lot that happens from here on out, and I really hope you guys stick around for it! I'm super excited and frankly super nervous about publishing this, I don't think I've ever been so obsessed with perfecting a written work in all my life, but at this point i'm just saying screw it and posting it.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are VERY encouraged appreciated! Positive feedback is really the backbone of my motivation to upload and update!
> 
> Be sure to follow me on twitter if you haven't @PLGLLNS (displayed as PlGLlNS, I'm getting closer to 3k everyday :D


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